


Drops of Stars

by ryukoishida



Series: Letters from the Sky [3]
Category: Free!
Genre: Airline AU, Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A three-day layover in London due to an unexpected storm suddenly feels like three decades long when Haruka decides to give in and call up Makoto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drops of Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the first time I write such explicit scenes, and I want to weep because of how horrible it is. [sobs] Please forgive me, you guys. I tried.

 

            There are no stars in the sky tonight, as thick clouds take over the city of London, but he can pretend the raindrops sticking to the windows that blur the golden streetlights outside are the stars of earth.

 

The rain is still splattering viciously against the glass of his small hotel room and the wind is howling like it’s about to swallow the entire building when Haruka decides to call Makoto. He was supposed to fly back to Japan yesterday, but the unexpected blizzard – with its heavy sheets of snow and sleet, and ferocious wind that blew the precipitation at a nearly horizontal angle at times – hit just as they were about to take flight, and as luck would have it, Heathrow Airport opted to cancel most of its flights.

 

            The snow has died down today but the sleet and rain haven’t.

 

            He checks the digital clock sitting on the bedside table: 11:03 P.M. That means it’s about seven o’clock in the morning on the other side of the world.

 

            When he counts up to the fifteenth drops of starlight on the window, Makoto picks up the phone with a murmured, “Hello?”

 

            “Makoto,” he calls out his lover’s name, and just that simple gesture reminds Haruka how far apart they really are.

 

            “Morning, Haru,” Makoto’s voice is still coarse with sleep, but Haruka can picture that soft smile on his face, his eyes probably blinking slowly to adjust to the sunlight just peaking through the blinds in his room. “Or I guess it’s good evening over where you’re at.”

 

            Haruka realizes that he hasn’t heard his boyfriend’s voice in three days, since they usually text each other due to time zone differences and work schedules, and just the sound of Makoto’s deep timber has significantly calm the unsettling riot in his heart that has started since the beginning of this storm.

 

            “Did I wake you?” He pulls the sheets on his bed closer to his chest; the heater is doing nothing to warm his bones, no matter how high he turns the dial.

 

            “I was planning to sleep in a bit, since work doesn’t start till noon…”

 

            “I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, burying his head deeper into the pillow. “I should have waited a little later.”

 

            “Haru, it’s fine. Calm down,” Makoto chuckles, and Haruka hears a little shifting on the other end as Makoto adjusts his position on the bed.

 

            There’s a short moment of silence, filled in by the pitter-pattering of the raindrops against glass panes and Makoto’s steady breathing in his ears.

 

            “So, what’s up?”

 

            “Wh-what do you mean?”

 

            “There must be a reason you call me so early in the morning,” Makoto yawns as if to make a point.

 

            “It’s nothing in particular,” Haruka mutters, slightly embarrassed. He just misses his voice, the heat of his skin, his warm laughter, the sounds that he makes when… ‘Oh.’

 

“I just – I can’t sleep, is all. The storm is causing such a ruckus outside.”

 

            “Do you need a little help to get worn-out enough to fall asleep?”

 

            Is it just Haruka’s imagination due to sleep deprivation or is there a hint of coy suggestiveness in Makoto’s seemingly teasing tone?

 

            He treads on this path with as much tact as he can. “Um. Maybe?” No, that’s not possible, not when Makoto is using that low, velvet-smooth voice.

 

            “What would you have me do then, Haru? What are you thinking about?”

 

            “You,” is the first thing that comes out of Haruka’s mouth without thinking, and he claps his hand over the lower half of his face, cheeks burning in the near dark.

 

            “I thought that’s a given,” Makoto laughs, and then his voice turns a little darker, “But what would you like to do to me, hmm? Tell me.”

 

            “Makoto.” He places his cell phone by his bedside table after turning on the speakerphone function, and lays his hands across his abdomen, fingers crossing in a steeple.

 

            “I’m listening.”

 

            “Want to kiss you,” he says in a small voice, cheeks still heated from embarrassment, but once Haruka starts, it seems like he can’t stop, and his tone gets bolder and more confident, “on your cheeks, your eyelashes, your lips, your neck. I like that little noise you make whenever I bite your hipbone.” And he really, really misses it.

 

            “Oh, do you now?” Haruka may not be able to see him, but he can picture the devilish grin that Makoto has whenever he wants something to go his way and knows that he can get it. “Want to know what I’m thinking about, Haru?”

 

            “Uh-huh.” Maybe the heater is finally starting to kick in, because Haruka feels a little warmer than before. He kicks the blanket aside, his hands wandering under the thin t-shirt he’s wearing and his eyes slip close, letting Makoto’s soothing voice wash over his being.

 

            “I’m thinking about what we did the night before you flew off to London,” Makoto tells him, his breaths sounding a little quicker than usual. “Do you remember?”

 

            Now that Makoto has mentioned it, it’s rather difficult for Haruka to not recall the image: his wrists held together snugly up by one of Makoto’s hand trapped above his head rendering him helpless, Makoto’s tongue licking and biting from his neck down to his torso, fingers dancing delightfully along his over-heated skin…

 

            “Mm-hmm,” Haruka barely manages a reply, one hand dipping into his boxer shorts, finding relief only temporarily as he touches himself. He tries to control the noises that are fighting to come out of his throat, biting his lower lip until it hurts, and he only succeeds mildly, quiet whimpers escaping from his lips despite his attempt.

 

            “Haru, still there?” A low chuckle travels from his phone into Haruka’s ears, the sound like a spell that sends a thrill down his spine. “Thinking about your cock in my mouth, huh? How I’m sucking and licking it and making you squirm?”

 

            Haruka isn’t even going to bother with an actual reply, just a shamefully loud moan at the memory of the warmth and wetness of Makoto’s mouth on him, the sensation of which can’t really be imitated by his own hand, but damn if he isn’t going to try anyway.

 

            “God, the little wanton sounds you make, Haru,” Makoto croons on the other side of the phone, sheets rustling and Haruka wonders whether he’s also doing the same thing. Just the thought of Makoto touching himself to his words is enough to send him off the edge. “The way you bite your lips when you try to force yourself to keep quiet – it’s going to wreck me someday.”

 

            “M-Makoto,” Haruka hisses through his teeth, his breathing uneven as he continues to tug at his cock in a more urgent rhythm. His eyes are squeezed tightly close, the familiar heat coiling at the pit of his lower abdomen. His boyfriend may be miles and miles away, but in the darkness of the night, it’s easy for him to imagine Makoto’s fingers overlapping his, helping him to get higher and tighter, his voice husky and close to his ears as if he can feel his breath against the side of his neck, his vibrant green eyes staring unabashedly as Haruka pleasures himself. “I want – hmm – want you…”

 

            On the other end, Makoto lets out a breathy sigh. “What is it? What do you want?”

 

            “Your fingers,” he bites out. Maybe he shouldn’t have turned up the heater after all, a thin layer of sweat starting to dot his skin, his cheeks flushing a lovely shade of red.

 

            “Yeah?”

 

            “Need your fingers inside me, Makoto,” he utters, doesn’t care if he has whined higher than usual or if his tone sounded needy. “You have n-no idea what they do to me. God…”

 

            “Want me to fill you up, is it?” Makoto asks, not really expecting a reply because Haruka’s moans and senseless rambling are enough of an answer for now. “Or would you like me to eat you out? Would you like that?”

 

            “Oh my fucking god,” Haruka swears and Makoto laughs because he knows he hardly does that unless he really is desperate or frustrated. He can’t even begin to imagine what it’d feel like to have Makoto’s hot tongue anywhere near there. “Y-you need to stop.”

 

            “Is that what you want?” There’s a teasing lilt to Makoto’s voice.

 

            “No, asshole, don’t ever stop,” Haruka mutters fiercely before letting out another lewd groan.

 

            “Love it when you talk dirty, Haru-chan.”

 

            “Shut it, stupid Makoto.”

 

            “Hey, Haru.”

 

           “What?” His hand has slowed down slightly so that he can actually comprehend what his boyfriend is saying.

 

            “Would you – that’s to say – when you come back, would you oppose to me fucking you?” Such vulgar language and sincere manner shouldn’t go so well together, but coming out of Makoto Tachibana’s mouth, the request sounds like a formal invitation to an important date.

 

            Haruka blinks in the dark, suddenly at a loss for words. They’re been dating for about a month at this point, and the most they’d ever done is giving each other blowjobs and using toys and fingers. This is the first time they’d ever had phone sex, actually. “Anything you want, Makoto, anything,” Haruka says in a rush, because yes, yes that is an excellent idea and that’s definitely something he can look forward to in order to make the time go by faster.

 

            “Did you stop touching yourself?” Makoto’s voice unexpectedly turns stern.

 

            “Uh, yes?”

 

            “Did I say you can stop?” One thing Haruka is still surprised after dating his best friend is that even though Makoto may seem the kindest, most gentle human being one will ever meet and have the fortunate to befriend (and he is), but when it comes to situations that involve a bed and Haruka, his attitude is capable of doing a one-eighty. Haruka can’t help but follow the commanding voice that Makoto rarely uses; he trusts Makoto enough to guide him through anything.

 

            At Makoto’s demand, Haruka starts to stroke himself once more, this time with the thought of having Makoto inside him seared deeply in his mind.

 

            “Are you thinking about my cock inside you now that I’ve planted the idea into your head? You think you’ll like it? That stretch and fullness?” It sounds as if Makoto is close as well, if his heavy and breathy sighs are any indication.

 

            “Y-yeah. Can’t wait.” Haruka thinks at this point that he’s incapable of full sentence answers anymore. He flicks a thumb over the slit of his head, wet and hot with smeared drops of pre-come.

 

            “Do you want me to fuck you until you scream? Until you can’t walk the next day without the ache reminding you of what we’ve done?”

 

            “Hnng…” The heat is unbearable, and the rhythm of his hand is becoming chaotic as his hips arch up for more friction.

 

            “Are you close, Haru?” The rustling of bed sheets and Makoto’s raucous words on the other end of the phone appears to be pressing as well.

 

            “Ma-Mako-to, I…” Haruka sounds as broken as he feels, the coil deep inside him winded so tightly he thinks he’s going to burst.

 

            “Come for me,” Makoto uses that quiet yet authoritative voice of his, and Haruka can’t fight against that. There’s no reason to, after all.

 

            Haruka’s orgasm comes swiftly after that command, lips bitten hard yet the careening of his scattering, arousing moans cannot be helped as the sounds fall like stars from the cavern of his mouth. His entire body shudders as ribbons of white land on his stomach, his hips still curving from the mattress. When he comes back down, he turns his head towards the room’s window, and thinks vaguely that the rain has finally stopped, even though the raindrops are still sliding down the glass pane at the slightest motion of the wind, elongating and disfiguring the colours and shapes outside.

 

            Half-consciously, he hears Makoto finishing himself off with a series of low grunts, a cacophony of strewn, muffled words “god” and “Haru” and “oh fuck” and other unintelligible noises signal his climax, and as he winds down, his harsh breathing seems unbelievably close to Haruka’s ears, as if he is lying right next to him.

 

            ‘Tomorrow,’ Haruka’s mind hazily reminds him, and a small, satisfied smile lingers on his lips.

 

            “Are you smiling?” Makoto asks idly.

 

            “How can you tell?” His lips are barely wrapping around the words. He tries to grab the box of tissues at the bedside table to clean himself up, but his limbs feel so heavy all of a sudden. His eyelids are about to close by themselves, too.

 

            “I just can,” Makoto laughs softly, and there’s more shifting as Haruka hears him getting out of bed.

 

            “Off to work now?” Haruka tosses the soiled tissue on the ground; he’ll throw them into the garbage can tomorrow. Right now, he just wants to lie on this strange bed and falls into a deep slumber.

 

            “Going to get ready for it, yes,” Makoto says in a chipper and much more awake tone than Haruka can handle right now. “Are you tired enough to finally go to sleep?”

 

            “Mm,” he takes the phone and places it next to his ear again before turning to his side so he can face the window filled with starlight. “See you tomorrow, Makoto,” he interrupts that with a yawn.

 

Makoto’s chuckles are warm and rich in his ears, calming the last of Haruka’s tension.

 

            “Sweet dreams, Haru.”

**Author's Note:**

> I did it. Oh my god. I did it. I did my first NSFW drabble. Wow, that was harder than I thought. I think I need to practice this shit more.


End file.
